


The Art of Consuming You

by verdantspace



Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure tri.
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Comeplay, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, okaaaay I'll try my best to list some of the sexual activities Taichi talks about, these are only mentioned but if it makes u uncomfy then don't read it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 10:58:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10829868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verdantspace/pseuds/verdantspace
Summary: Taichi's mouth is dirty; literally and figuratively.





	The Art of Consuming You

**Author's Note:**

> Hi so I know I should be finishing Crystal Eyes but I'm stuck on some details and I'd like to work on that first before posting anything :"")) This is kinda like a...peace offering? Idk I was just in a mood to write filth so I wrote this on lunch break and it kinda escalated ehe. This is utterly unbetaed so every single mistake is my own.
> 
> P.S. Despite the tags, they don't really do much action. Most of this is just Taichi's dirty mouth and I've tried my best to list the sexual activities (both performed and mentioned) on the tags. If any of it makes you uncomfortable then, please, spare us the trouble and don't read it. That said, I hope you enjoy! :))
> 
> P.P.S. Cry w/ me on twitter: [@verdantspace](https://twitter.com/verdantspace)

One thing Yamato knows for sure about Taichi is that the perpetual nonsense spewing out of his mouth apparently extends to the bedroom. It’s quite impressive, when you think about it, because not even Yamato’s dick in his mouth keeps him from talking.

Yamato even suspects it’s his favorite pastimes, dirty talking a mile a minute with his lips millimeters away from the blond’s cock, the combination of utter filth and hot breath from his mouth making Yamato frustrated enough to want to knee him on the forehead. He actually tried once, only to have his knees pushed even further toward his chest, Taichi’s low, breathy growl of _bad boy_ the only warning he had gotten before the brunette proceeded to ravish his thighs. The bruises had refused to fade for a week.

The thing is, Yamato is in no way a blushing virgin; being the frontman of a band taught him things, offered him chances, so it’s safe to say that he is actually, quite experienced. And yet, Taichi has a way of making his squirm—in a confusing cocktail of annoyance, discomfort, and arousal—and that dirty mouth of his might be Yamato’s undoing.

He looks down, and the sight of his boyfriend’s untamed hair hovering over his crotch makes his breath catch.

“God, you’re tasty all over,” Taichi whispers before dropping his head once more to suck, the insides of his cheeks rubbing against Yamato’s cockhead. He’s also three fingers deep, nails scraping gently against the spot inside of Yamato that makes his body react violently.

“Taichi, fuck,” Yamato pants out the only words he is capable of forming, hands tangled in Taichi’s mane. The brunette seems to find amusement in that because he looks like he’s _smirking_ with a prick in his mouth. He proceeds to drag his lips upwards, never breaking eye contact with Yamato, and then releases his cock with a hot, quiet pop.

His fingers leave the warmth of Yamato’s body as he shifts upwards to kiss the blond, and Yamato’s annoyed growl is smothered between the press of their lips and Taichi’s quiet laugh. Taichi’s thumb continues stroking the raw, stretched skin of Yamato’s opening in soothing motions, as if to console. Yamato kind of hates himself for almost purring in response.

They stay like that for a while, and Yamato finds his hand squeezing Taichi’s—the one not occupied with his ass. He glances at their joined hands; fingers crisscrossing against one another, and feels the weight of Taichi’s hand in his. It never fails to calms him down.

It’s kind of their _thing_ , holding hands. It’s a universal gesture that feels somewhat intimate for Yamato, Taichi’s strong grip anchoring him—and if he closes his eyes, he can almost feel his digivice in his other hand. They hold hands a lot, to be honest; when Taichi’s seeing him off for another expedition to space, when Taichi’s about to make important speeches in front of world leaders and he needs Yamato’s quiet support, when Taichi’s riding him and Yamato’s about to fall apart from the heat and friction, when Taichi fucks him so hard that it almost feels like he _loathes_ him, if not for the gentle fingers lovingly holding Yamato’s hand, the whispers of praise and declarations of forevers.

Thinking about it makes Yamato dizzy, and he brings his focus back to the present. Taichi’s eyes are on him, shrewd gaze trained on Yamato's face, searching for any sign of discomfort. Yamato manages a small smile in response, mouthing _I’m okay_ , and Taichi kisses his temple before he starts talking again.

“Wanna train you, Yama,” he says, hovering on top of Yamato with his broad shoulders and sun kissed skin and eyes ablaze. Yamato’s burning under his heat and it’s suddenly harder to breathe, but it’s a welcome suffocation.

He should be annoyed because he’s still hard and Taichi’s practically stalling to bring him off, but when Taichi’s like this, Yamato’s world is narrowed to the sound of his voice.

“Train me for what?” Yamato manages to sound defiant despite the desperation clawing his throat, and he considers that a small win. For now.

“This pretty mouth,” Taichi whispers, fingers tracing the bow of Yamato’s lower lip. Out of habit, Yamato takes two of his fingers into his mouth, and he’s aware that the blue of his eyes is almost swallowed by his pupils, because Taichi moans out loud when they make eye contact.

“Slender throat,” his big hand circles almost easily around the blond’s swan throat and instead of being scared, Yamato feels his cock jerk. Fuck, he needs to stop being so _weak_ for Taichi.

The brunette grins, “You know how I swallow around you, Yamato? It’s nothing easy, opening up your throat for someone’s cock.”

“You’re pretty much always gagging for it,” Yamato points out.

“Too true,” Taichi agrees, “and have you ever thought about why I like it so much?”

Yamato hasn’t, to be perfectly honest, and he’s going to start wondering now, no thanks to him.

“It hurts like fuck, not gonna lie,” Taichi admits, thumb pressing down gently on Yamato’s jugular, “I mean, you’re the tastiest thing I’ve ever tasted, but it’s not like you’re _small_ ,” he emphasizes his point by tugging on Yamato’s dick, slender and about the same length as Taichi’s, just a fraction longer. How dare Taichi talks about size, Yamato thinks, when his dick is of porn star quality.

The length is not abnormal or anything—six something inches—just a little above average. It’s the thickness that borders on obscenity.

He makes Yamato feel so full, so _fulfilled_ that his brain whites out sometimes. The stretch aches in a way that Yamato’s body craves, and he prides himself for making good use of that cock. It’s inevitable that he’s now completely ruined for other men, but Yamato simply dismisses that fact.

Back to the topic at hand, now.

Ignoring his thundering heart, Yamato grunts out, “Your point is?”

Taichi’s answering grin is mischievous. “‘Cause I’m sooo good at doing it, and I know all the right stuff, I wanna teach you how to do it. On me.”

The world stops for a moment as Yamato processes his words. _Do what?_ he’s almost tempted to ask, just to be a little shit. But it’s fucking obvious what Taichi’s hinting at, and Yamato’s eyes reflexively dart to his boyfriend’s dick. Which is quite intimidating even while half hard. Is that even physically possible, Yamato wants to shout.

Yet it is, Yamato _knows_ it is, has seen Taichi do it numerous times, the heat of his throat a vice grip around Yamato’s cock. Taichi does it with surprising finesse and ease, powerful hands holding Yamato’s hips down while his mouth and throat work in tandem.

Sometimes he lets Yamato fuck his throat in weak little stutters, the blond too lost in pleasure to get anything done right, but most times he controls it all. Taichi does everything like that—powerhouse, intense—and Yamato can’t even buck his hips without feeling the telltales of handprint shaped bruises forming under Taichi’s hold.

Deepthroating is a very coarse, technical term to describe what his boyfriend is capable of, and a small, hopelessly romantic side of Yamato prefers to think that Taichi _consumes_ him instead.

His silence must worry the brunette, because his eyes flash in alarm and a guilty look takes over his face.

“Yamato?”

A little gasp, and Yamato forces himself to focus back on Taichi.

“Yeah?” Yamato knows how he sounds like when he’s inexplicably turned on, how every word comes out breathless, coarse along the edges but soft as a whisper. Taichi notices it, too, if his rapidly hardening dick is any indication. Apparently, Yamato likes the idea of taking Taichi’s crash course on swallowing cock. Now Yamato is fully convinced that perversion is a contagious disease, because he sure as hell wasn’t a lecherous sex fiend before Taichi introduced him to these things.

The shit-eating grin on Taichi’s face is fucking annoying, Yamato convinces himself, even when the scowl on his own lips looks out of place due to his blown pupils.

“So I take it you’re interested?” Taichi knows Yamato well enough not to need confirmation, and the playful edge of his inquiry suggests that he just wants to _hear_ it from Yamato. Perfect blond angel, agitated and helpless to succumb to his own corruption, begrudgingly speaking of things that God wouldn’t approve of. Taichi gets his kicks out of that, whenever he manages to put a crack on Yamato's steely, stubborn exterior.

The flush on Yamato’s face has spread all the way to his chest now, the dim lighting of their bedroom making his skin glow, soft pink and mellow amber on pale palette. God, he’s fucking pretty. Pretty and perfect and Taichi’s to ruin and build back again.

“I—” Yamato chokes out, eyes squeezed shut, and that wouldn’t do, Taichi muses. He presses the pads of his thumb to the upturned curve of Yamato’s cat eyes, a gentle pressure, but relentless. The silent message carries home quickly enough, for Yamato snaps his eyes open and Taichi momentarily loses himself in pools of blue.

Taichi holds his breath as the tense line of Yamato’s jaw gradually becomes slack, the petals of his lips blossoming as a shaky sigh escapes them. The blond’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, and Taichi follows the movement with reverence. They’re quite small, Yamato’s lips, thin but pouty, a perpetual shade of pink brushed on a pale face. Taichi can hardly wait to see them spread as wide as possible, stretched around the base of his cock. He’d look so fucking gorgeous.

“If I agree to this,” Yamato murmurs, rubbing Taichi’s forearm, the movement most likely reflexive, “you’ll let me come?”

Taichi smiles. It’s quite rare for Yamato to ask for permission like this. Usually the blond would just take matters in his own hands, jacks himself off with three fingers hammering his own prostate, making pornographic sounds just to make Taichi’s life miserable.

However, there are rare nights where Yamato gives it all, lets go of his tightly reigned control and entrusts his body—his heart, too—to Taichi. This is one of those nights, apparently. They’re few and far between, but Taichi is a determined lover, and he’ll always be ready to give Yamato what he needs.

“Yeah,” Taichi breathes, rubbing on Yamato’s left nipple before flicking it with his fingernail, “what do you want me to do, darling? I’ll do whatever you want to make you come, baby, I swear.”

Yamato lets out a quiet little _ngh_ that goes straight to Taichi’s boner. He has a conflicted look on his face, like he can’t quite decide which perversion he wants his boyfriend to submit to. Taichi would do it all, obviously, so there’s no need to worry.

“Keep doing that,” he finally says, holding onto Taichi’s wrist—the one attached to the hand playing with Yamato’s nipple.

“You wanna come just from this?” Taichi asks, alternating between soft rubs and harsh tweaks, and before long, Yamato’s nipples turn a pretty shade of red from the abuse. He ducks down, licks on Yamato’s earlobe and breathes, “You sure that’s enough, sweetheart?”

A hard look passes through Yamato’s eyes, and a quiet click of tongue is the only warning Taichi gets before a strong hand forces his head downwards.

“Suck it, you fuck.”

It seems like Yamato is not quite there yet, his pride still clinging to the remaining strings of control, frayed as they may be. The way he resorts to simple insults is as predictable as it is cute, so Taichi laughs against the skin of his chest, breathes out, “Nothing like your delightful tongue, Yamato,” before giving in and taking the abused nub in his mouth. He suckles while humming happily, one of his hands moving to flick his own nipple, perked up from the sounds of pleasure Yamato emits.

“You’re obscene, Yagami,” he accuses, sounding exasperated and amused at the same time.

Taichi grins, and bites down none to gently on Yamato’s right nipple. “You love it.”

Yamato doesn’t answer, but Taichi doesn’t need his confirmation, anyway, so he continues with his work. After administrating a hearty suck, Taichi pulls off with a pop, licking his lips like he’s just finished tasting a treat. He eyes the precome beading on the tip of Yamato’s cock and smiles. “You’re so close just from having your nipples toyed with, aren’t you? So sensitive here,” he pinches both nipples simultaneously, making Yamato gasp, “here, too.”

His fingers wander to Yamato’s ass, stroking lean muscles and tickling along the perineum before rubbing the sensitive hole. He alternates between teasing the opening and playing with Yamato’s balls, and soon enough Yamato’s hips become restless; wildly undulating against Taichi’s fingers and messing up the sheets under him.

It doesn’t seem like he’s capable of forming speech in this state, so Taichi tones down his ministrations on Yamato’s body and asks again, his words a gush of warm breath against Yamato’s ears. “Babe, you with me? Come on, I won’t know what you want unless you tell me,” he flickers his tongue against Yamato’s earlobes and continues, “Tell me, please? Yamato. Tell me and I’ll make it good, so good for you. You deserve the best and I’m here to give it to you. Come on, baby, tell me.”

They don’t use pet names in public, not really. It’s always _Taichi_ and _Yamato_ , has always been since the very beginning. For them, pet names are reserved for the bedroom, especially for occasions like these. It amuses Taichi how much his boyfriend secretly loves it, and Taichi likes seeing the way it affects him. He purposefully rolls the sweet syllables on his tongue and lets them fall on Yamato’s ears in slow, gentle waves. A film of mist settles on the blues of Yamato’s eyes, and Taichi watches as he finally succumbs to base desires, stripped bare of the sharpness that usually protects him.

It’s lovely. He’s lovely, Taichi thinks, laying a kiss on top of Yamato’s heart to feel his heartbeat under his lips. He continues to pepper kisses on the pale of Yamato’s torso, waiting. He’s usually not one for patience, but he can make exceptions. Especially for Yamato.

“Taichi, wanna fuck you,” Yamato pants out after a while, pretty blue eyes glazed over almost completely. Taichi grins down at him, more than sure that Yamato’s coherency is pretty much nonexistent at this point, so he just blurted out the first thing that came to mind. The brunette is honored that his boyfriend prioritizes his ass over anything else, and truth be told Taichi is sort of in the mood of getting fucked tonight, so it’s a win win.

And yet, it’ll be such a waste not to make use of Yamato’s state. It’s not often that he gets like this; all melty and slack jawed and almost subservient. It’s a sight to behold, and Taichi feels his heart tightens in its ribcage.

“Of course you can, baby. Can’t wait to have you inside,” Taichi assures, giving Yamato’s temple a tiny peck. “But I get to fuck you first. After that, you can have me on my hands and knees, and every time you thrust into me, you’ll feel my come leak out, wetting your thighs, and you’re gonna remember what a dirty boy you are. A fucking pervert who loves it when he has warm come inside of him. You love it, don’t you? How thick and hot it is, how warm it makes you feel?”

Truth be told, Taichi is the one with an abnormal fascination with comeplay, so he’s more than a little surprised when Yamato agrees so readily, a rapid stream of yes yes _yes_ pouring out of his small mouth, sweeping Taichi along in the process.

In an attempt to steady himself, Taichi continues, “But that’s not enough, isn’t it? That’s why I’ll teach you to swallow me down; so you can have it in your belly,” he rubs his hand along Yamato’s lower stomach, “you’ll love it, Yamato, how it tastes, how it settles here, warm and plenty inside of you. But you don’t want anyone else’s do you? Just mine.”

The last word comes out as a barely restrained growl, and Yamato babbles his response.

“Yours, only yours,” Yamato’s eyes are out of focus, and Taichi can’t decide if he’s referring to Taichi’s semen or the fact that Yamato belongs to Taichi. The fact that they belong to each other.

This is intense, Taichi muses. The evening has escalated beyond expectations, and Taichi is in awe of the effect it has on their dynamic, the doors that it has opened. He’s not sure how it happens, but if his filthy words are to be held accountable for the awakening of _something_ inside of Yamato, well. Taichi believes it to be mutually beneficial.

Yamato’s trembling hand claws at his thigh, breaking Taichi out of his reverie. He's asking for attention, and Taichi takes a deep breath before giving it to him. He mumbles a _sorry, sweetheart, distracted,_ and observes the way Yamato tilts his hips up, impatient and needy. It’s a request, a _demand_ , and as much as Taichi wants to bask in the moment, he’s also teetering on the edge.

With a smile on his lips, he takes what’s so graciously offered by seizing Yamato’s hips, gripping hard enough to warrant some bruises. They’re back to their original position—Yamato on his back with Taichi between his legs, spread wide to accommodate all of Taichi; his demanding hands and blazing eyes and playful dominance. A shiver racks through Yamato’s body, and Taichi lays a kiss of comfort on the inside of his pale thigh.

“I’ve kept you waiting, haven’t I?” Taichi tuts playfully, like he can’t believe himself for having the gall to make Yamato wait. He grins and looks at Yamato in the eyes as he says, “I’ll give it to you now.”

Yagami Taichi may have a dirty mouth, but he’s also a man of his words. He feels a storm building inside of him, manifested from his own need to give Yamato what others will never be able to provide for him. He kisses that receptive mouth once again, and swears to make good on his promises.


End file.
